took her by the elbow and she reluctantly allowed him to lead her toward a side room—all the while fighting to disregard the realization that they might have been apart all these years but the fire that always burned so fiercely between them had reignited just like that. Her skin warmed where his hand lightly cupped her elbow, her senses keenly attuned to the size of him, to the heat that emanated from his large form, to the scent he still wore. A scent that she’d tried her hardest to forget but that seemed to be indelibly imprinted on her limbic system.
An older woman with a cloud of silver hair and alert blue eyes rose from her seat in the front row of the groom’s side of the room.
“Valentin?”
“Nagy,” he said in acknowledgment. “I think you need to come with us. You have some explaining to do.”
Some explaining to do? Imogene’s brow creased in ever-growing confusion. She recognized the diminutive of the Hungarian word for grandmother from back when Valentin used to talk about his family. But how could his grandmother have anything to do with this?
“Yes, I believe I do,” replied the old woman in a firm voice. She turned to appease the assembled guests with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, everyone, we’ll be back shortly.”
Back shortly? Imogene doubted that very much, but she allowed Valentin to guide her along in his grandmother’s wake as she walked purposefully ahead of them.
“Explain yourself,” Valentin demanded, rounding on his grandmother the moment she closed the door behind them.
“I did exactly what you asked me to do. I found you a wife.”
“I don’t understand,” Imogene interjected.
Valentin didn’t understand, either. The brief he’d given Alice had been pretty straightforward. He wanted a wife and he wanted a family. After his first failed attempt seven years ago, when he’d thrown his usual logic to the four corners of the world and leaped before looking, he’d decided to take a more rational approach. He did not—in any way, shape or form—expect to see his ex-wife approach him here today. No matter how much more beautiful she’d grown in the years since he’d last seen her.
He took a moment to fill his gaze with the vision of loveliness that was his ex. She hadn’t changed that much. Not her dark auburn hair that so richly adorned her head or her green-gray eyes that snapped angrily at him now or her smooth alabaster skin that had always shown every mark from his five o’clock shadow—making it necessary for him to shave twice a day when they were together. He’d have done anything for her, once—shaving twice a day was the least of it. But all that was in the past, and would remain there.
He transferred his attention to his grandmother, who composed herself with her usual grace and instinctive air of command before speaking.
“Imogene, let me explain a little. But first, please, take a seat. And, Valentin, that means you, too. You know I can’t tolerate your pacing. You always did have ants in your pants, even as a child.”
Valentin bit back the retort that in this case, he had every right to pace. Instead, he gestured to Imogene to take a chair in the small side office and took another for himself. They were close enough that he could smell her fragrance. It was something different from what she used to wear but no less potent when it came to his senses. He used his customarily rigid control to ignore the way the scent teased at him, inviting him to lean a little nearer, to inhale more deeply, and instead focused on watching his grandmother.
Alice settled herself behind the desk and rested her age-spotted hands on the blotter in front of her. She took her time to speak, obviously choosing her words carefully.
“I would like to remind you both that you have signed a contract to marry today.”
“Not him!”
“Not her!”
Their responses were simultaneous and equally emphatic.
“I don’t recall either of you stating any exclusions when you approached Match Made in Marriage. Do you?” She arched one silver brow and gave them each a pointed look. “No, of course not. Because when you signed the contracts with Match Made in Marriage, you gave us an undertaking to find you your ideal life partner. Which I—” she hesitated and corrected herself “—we did.”
“What?” Imogene gasped and turned her gaze on Valentin. “Your grandmother is a part of all this?”
He nodded. “She is. And she’s usually very good at it, but in our case, she’s clearly made a mistake.”
Alice sighed and rolled her eyes. “I do not make mistakes, Valentin. Never, and especially not in this case.”
“You can’t seriously begin to expect me to believe that,” he responded, his voice rising in frustration. “We ended our marriage seven years ago due to irreconcilable differences.”
“Infidelity,” Imogene injected into the conversation. “Yours.”
Valentin held on to his temper by a thread. “As I said, irreconcilable differences. As far as I am aware nothing else has changed between us, so I fail to see how Imogene became my perfect match. Your instincts have failed you this time.”
“Instincts?” Imogene’s voice ran cold. “I was of the understanding matches are made using specialists, not mumbo jumbo. Doesn’t that put you in breach of contract, Mrs. Horvath?”
Valentin watched his grandmother level a considering look at his ex-wife.
“You will find that the ‘mumbo jumbo’ as you so dismissively call it is well-defined under clause 24.2.9 subparagraph a. I believe the term has been set out as ‘subjective assessment by Match Made in Marriage.’”
“That’s ridiculous,” Imogene protested.
“May I remind you that no one forced you to sign the contract,” Alice said in a voice that dripped icicles.
“Either way,” Valentin interrupted before Imogene could let fly a volley of words that he imagined were hovering on the edge of her tongue, “what you have done is gross manipulation of us both. This doesn’t need to become uncivil. Contracts can be broken. I think I speak for both Imogene and myself when I say this marriage will go not ahead.”
“And I speak for Match Made in Marriage when I say it definitely will. You are right for each other.”
“Impossible!” Imogene snorted inelegantly. “I specifically said that infidelity was a deal breaker. If my prospective partner could not promise to remain faithful to me, I could not contemplate marriage with him. What about that was not clear?”
“I was not unfaithful,” Valentin protested in frustration.
They’d gone over this already seven years ago. But Imogene’s refusal to accept his word, and his promise to her, had seen her walk out on him without so much as a backward glance. In fact, for her, at least, it had been all too easy to call an end to their life together. To the dreams they’d shared, let alone the passion. Still, he’d reminded himself often in those early days, it was better he’d found out her lack of staying power then, rather than later when there may have been children to consider, as well.
“Stop
